Sturgis Rally 2007-Day 3: The JAGE is Birthed

Well, here it is. Day three, Monday August 6th. It just so happens that 26 years ago today I came kicking and screaming into this world, and nothing has been right since. 26 years after tearing a hole in the fabric of space and time, I find myself waking up at noon to an empty HQ. Its apparent to me that no hookers, or stray dogs or anything managed to follow us home last evening, and other than a slight hang over and a memory card full of naughty memories, I’m feeling pretty good. I engorge myself on home made gobs and milk and after a quick shower, I jump on the bike and head over to the convention center.

I quickly find E-Rokk flirting with a bunch of chicks in leather, and we dive into the convention center. Harley Davidson had overtaken both the inside and outside of the center, with demonstrations, free rides and food. We decided to take it easy this morning and recoup, get some family friendly photo, and NOT get drunk. Clearly Nick Fit had other plans!

It turns out that me and Nick share our birthday! Granted, hes 2 years older than the JAGE but still, since he is the unofficial Hey Stupid! drunk, when I saw his orange 350Z roll up, I should have known that trouble was about to find me. I ditch the photo session and jump in the car, unbeknown to me that day 3 was about to turn into another drunken fiasco.

We head over to Nick’s place, where I’m instantly bombarded by his 3 crazy dogs. I’m tossed a beer and I sit down on the couch, and instantly, Dozer, the small wiener dog, jumps into my lap. I place Dozer on the couch beside me and, while cracking open my first beer, I casually begin to scratch Dozer behind his ears. Nick is leafing through his mail when he shouts, “Dozer! NO!! I look down to see his dog jizz all over his white couch. Grossest thing I’ve ever seen! Dozer is thrown into the kitchen, the stain is tended to and Nick announces that its time to head to the bar. It’s hardly 2PM on a Monday! This will get ugly!

We head out to The Stampede and swing the doors open wide… to a totally deserted bar. Seems most people have jobs or something better to do at 2:oo on a Monday? I suggest that we head back to the HQ for some much needed R and R, but Nick was having none of that. We grab a few rounds, pick out a pool table and rack up. We end up playing 5 rounds of pool, and manage to down 10 rounds of beer. Around 5, E-Rokk shows up and me and Nick are beyond drunk. As we are leaving we run into a few other bikers, and engage in some conversation. Me and Nick made the mistake of letting everyone know that today was our birthdays, and before you can say “H-A-M-M-E-R-E-D,” we have lines of shots upon the bar. I don’t have to tell you that this was a very, very bad idea…

The next thing I remember, I’m in a dark barn somewhere in South Dakota, I’m sitting, I hear some sort of music playing,… my arms are moving… I’m Drumming? What the hell? I see E-Rokk playing a guitar, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, cowboy hat pulled low; Nick Fit is stumbling around trying to sing into a mic, he has a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other and blood running down his face. Seems he tried to sing into the mic through his forehead and it didn’t work out so well.

Its been a long time since I’ve had a pair of drum sticks in my hand, and as drunk as I was, there is no way anything I was playing sounded good. About halfway into the set, the back door of the barn swings wide and a grumpy looking man of about 75 stands tall in the dim light streaming out. All I can think is, “This guy is a neighbor that is really pissed off that our shitty music is giving him a head ache.” Much to my surprise, Woody was there to not only give Renegade Revival some much needed praise, but he actually grabbed a guitar and started jamming along with us! This guy was singing songs about his term in prison and about a little boy, and just about any other hardship this man had been through. It was a bitter sweet end to a pretty uneventful birthday…